


Sacrifices

by GoodJanet



Category: James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Fuck Or Die, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:06:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5166620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodJanet/pseuds/GoodJanet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Go on. Touch it,” Bond hears as he slowly wakes up.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifices

**Author's Note:**

> Minor spoilers within

“Go on. Touch it,” Bond hears as he slowly wakes up. 

He slowly opens his eyes. Oberhauser—for that is how James knows him, despite whatever alias he went by currently—sits in an armchair next to the bed, expectantly waiting for him to wake. Well, here they were. In Oberhauser’s bedroom, no doubt. Someone had knocked him out and redressed him in shorts and a robe. Oberhauser was clothed, but had been using his lax hand to touch himself while James slept.

Franz releases his hand and grins.

It fascinates James that someone with such a soft face and such inquisitive eyes could be such a monster at their core. That someone he knew at the tender age of twelve, someone he roomed with and watched movies with on weekends and went fishing with, could turn into the man he sees before him. This was a man who hated him so much that he had spent the last ten years of his life trying to kill, destroy, or ruin anything and anyone of value to him.

James wipes his hand off on the sheets.

“Oh, let’s not pretend that you’re a shrinking violet. We both know what you’re capable of. Since when do matters of gender or consent matter to you?”

“Why don’t you speak for yourself and tell me why I am here.”

It’s not a question, and Franz doesn’t mistake it as one.

“James, all this fighting is exhausting, wouldn’t you say? You beat me, I beat you. It’s a terribly messy back and forth, and frankly, I find it’s getting old. I’m sure on that, we can agree.” 

He waits for Bond to reply, but James, of course, does not. Ever stoic, he waits for Oberhauser to finish his self-aggrandizing speech while his eyes scan the room for bugs and possible escape routes.

“Needless to say, I’ve come up with a solution that can be pleasant for the both of us.”

James huffs a mirthless laugh. “You mean for me to be your courtesan, is that right?” He looks down at his sparse clothing. “This is the best you could do on short notice, I take it?”

Oberhauser’s brows furrow, and he leans back in his chair with arms folded.

“MI6 has been demolished. The 00 program has been disbanded. Your leader is dead, and C has infiltrated MI5. You have nothing to go back to and nowhere to start over.”

“Ah, you think you’re doing me a favor.”

“I figured you would prefer physical pleasure to physical torment. Though if I’ve miscalculated your preferences, please feel free to correct me. I’m sure I could use you just as effectively in here as I could in in our animal testing facility.”

“I never knew you fancied me.”

“James, do you really think I’d go to all this trouble if I didn’t care?”

James doesn’t doubt that, in his mind, this is what “fancying” and “caring” looked like. It looked gritty. It looked desperate. It looked obsessive.

It’s no surprise that Oberhauser would go to such lengths, just to violate him once more. Of course the man would want to penetrate, not only his job and relationships, but also his very body. He could see where Franz would find that poetic.

James throws his robe off the side of the bed while Oberhauser watches him. 

He’s used to being watched. He is fairly sure there’s a camera hidden in the folds on the curtain near the terrace. He’s also willing to bet there are weapons strategically strapped to various pieces of furniture throughout the room. If it meant living to tell the tale, he supposes one night with his captor wouldn’t be the worst thing that’s happened to him in recent years.

“Well, don’t keep me waiting,” he quips as Franz continues to stare.

 _Perhaps,_ James thinks, _it **is** possible to catch him off-guard._

Franz quickly adjusts his face into something closer to the mask he usually wears and stands up. It is James’ turn to watch as his former childhood companion strips off his clothes in the same clinical fashion that he did everything else.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got any lube in here,” James wonders aloud. “I can always slip down to the drugstore, if you’d like.”

“Your false confidence is grating,” Franz scolds, folding his undershirt with meticulous corners and placing them in a pile on the chair.

“Isn’t that my job, big brother?”

Franz balls his shirt up and whips it onto the stack of his clothes already there. James realizes that he’s struck a nerve, though he’s not sure whether to celebrate that or not.

“Be lucky if I spit on you.” Just as quickly as Oberhauser had snapped, he carefully composes himself once more. “It isn’t nice to tease, James.”

Without any further preamble, Franz discards his black briefs and goes about tidying the pile of clothes. James always did consider him to be rather uptight. He sees some things never change.

He tries not to think about Franz fucking him raw, drawing blood and tears for his own amusement.

There’s not much room for brave banter after that. Franz wastes no more time either and quickly straddles James’ hips. He struggles not to cringe away from the soft hands that run up and down his chest. Traitorous goosebumps arise anyway, and Franz smiles.

“You’re so receptive to my touch. Who is fancying whom now?”

James reminds himself not to take the bait. It wouldn’t be worth it to die or be seriously injured over a petty, meaningless comment. He knew better than to react to every taunt. Instead, he reminds himself, it’s easier to go through the motions of what he wants. Better to get it over with.

“What if I did fancy you?” James asks. His hands rise up off the bed and come to settle on his slender hips. His thumbs fit perfectly over the jut of bones. “What if I always have?”

Franz licks his lips and chuckles darkly.

“Oh, James, you play your role so well. But you are being a good boy, aren’t you? You’ve been trained to be an excellent flatterer.” He leans down from his position over Bond to suck a warm, wet bite under his left ear. “Let’s start things off nice, hmmm? Always better to work our way up to the extreme.”

The threat is quite clear in his voice, and James swallows. The longer he took to get out, the worse he would suffer. And putting up a fuss or a fight could be just as detrimental to his (and others’) health and safety.

“How do you want me?” he asks.

James slow spreads his legs open, giving Franz the time to register his acceptance and to decide his next course of action for Bond. He watches the man intently, trying to gauge what he would want and what he would want him to do. If Franz truly meant it when he said he wanted to break him in and break him down slowly, then he’d want his mouth and his ass. He could do that, he told himself. He knew how. He’d been shown and taught how to do this while in training for MI6.

Franz slides himself back until he is cradled between James’ muscular thighs. Oberhauser reaches a hand out to James’ face. He strokes his stubbly cheeks and ruffles his hair in mockery of a brother’s affection. It doesn’t surprise him a bit when Franz’ thumb presses against his lower lip and gently tugs it down. It churns his stomach to think about it, but James gives it a tentative lick, and opening the door, he knows, to all sorts of trouble.

“Eager. I like it. It’s another nice touch.”

“You can do more than touch,” James husks. “I’m yours now. You have me.”

“Reach under your pillow,” Franz commands with no other explanation.

Cautious, James does. There’s a small tube. He pulls it out into the open, Franz looking down at him the whole time. It’s lube.

Franz laughs. It’s an awful, ugly noise.

“You didn’t think I was going to skip this step, did you, James? You’re not giving me enough credit, dear boy! Do you think I am going to rub my cock raw just to make you suffer?” He snorts. “Even I am not that sadistic.”

Whatever the reasons Franz had, it at least meant that he wasn’t going to go raw. One less injury to report to medical, Q, and M. He breathes a sigh of relief.

“Turn yourself over, boy. I’m a busy man, and you’re not going to look this pretty forever.”

Silently, he does. He reminds himself to keep his head down and not give in to the temptation of talking too much. The quieter he was, the more Oberhauser would come reveal on his own.

Oberhauser’s hands direct him to lift his hips, and his underwear is slowly dragged down his legs. He is as naked as Franz, and he tries not to let himself shiver. At the first drops of lube on his crack, he fails. He just picture Franz’ grin. He felt so open like this. Like every freckle and curve and muscle was being evaluated for pain and pleasure. Or at the very least, his own pain and Franz’ pleasure.

Franz parts his cheek and squeezes more of the cold liquid on to his most private places. James bites his cheek until he tastes blood when he feels two fingers roughly enter him. 

_Don’t cry. Don’t scream. Not now._

“You’re so warm. I can tell that already,” Oberhauser taunts. “I’ve always heard that 007 had a heart of ice. Clearly,” he says, punctuated by shoving in over and over again, “no one has tried this method to reach your core. It’s always the other way around with you, isn’t it? Tsk, tsk. All those women when _this_ is what you need.”

The fingers leave, and James grits his teeth.

_Don’t think about them. Don’t think about anyone._

“Personally, I don’t really care if this makes you come or not. I hope I’ve been clear that you’re here for me. You’re doing so well so far, my little darling.”

He wouldn’t have been able to get hard, even if Franz had wanted him to. James turns his head so he’s face down on the bed. He really didn’t want or need to see what Oberhauser was doing—or about to do—to himself. It was bad enough he could hear the sound of Oberhauser slicking himself up. A long, slow, sticky-sounding slide of skin on skin. It made his skin crawl. 

Franz shoves inside and his body flare in white hot pain and mind cycles through images of all the women in his life. All of them from Honey Ryder to M. He thought of how he had failed to protect all of them. All of them gone due to his alcohol and adrenalin-fueled, escapist lifestyle.

“It’s too late to cry, James. There’s no one to hear you. There’s no one to save you and no one to save. There is just you and I here, 007.”

He uses his code name like it’s a curse. But isn’t that just about right?

 _There is someone to save,_ his mind supplies.

“Madeleine,” he breathes.

It’s a secret whispered to the sheets below him. 

It was enough.


End file.
